


Lunchtime Confessions

by MRKRZHRSE



Series: Puddle Jumping [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drama, Military Science Fiction, Romantic Friendship, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRKRZHRSE/pseuds/MRKRZHRSE
Summary: Tapped by some General named Hammond, Senior Chief Frank Hopkins had just turned down the job of a lifetime for some crazy Air Force operation in Colorado. Giving up DEV group might be his worst decision ever.
Series: Puddle Jumping [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638721
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. SGC General Hammond’s office

**Author's Note:**

> I have written stories off and on over my life but never taken it seriously. This is my attempt to try to get a little more serious about my writing and see if I can get the creative juices flowing again. I hope you enjoy it but if not, I appreciate any critique you have.

Senior Chief Francis, aka Frank Hopkins adjusts his Navy uniform and raps on the door of General Hammond’s office… He hears a muffled, “Enter.”

He pushes the door open, enters and snaps to attention with a crisp salute as he speaks, “General Hammond, Senior Chief Frank Hopkins reporting for duty.” General Hammond returns the salute.

“At ease, senior chief…. Welcome to the SGC. I’ve been looking over your service record and you have had quite the career… 3 purple hearts, 2 Distinguished Service medals, and the Navy Cross for your actions in Afghanistan. There is also a recommendation from Chief of Staff Ryan to join the SGC…. Very impressive son”

Frank smiles at the general, “Just doing my duty sir.” The general shakes his head and wonders how he got so lucky to be surrounded by these great soldiers and sailors. The thought was only slightly cynical. Every new kid that came through his door emotionally dropped and gave him 20. That was fine with Hammond, he already had enough smart mouthed Colonels to deal with. A little respect for the stars would be a nice change.

“Well, son, I say you have succeeded…. Let’s get you settled into your billet and we will get you briefed and assign to your SG team tomorrow.” Hammond reaches for the intercom. “Walter, please come escort senior chief Hopkins to his room and then to the mess hall.” Walter replies and the com goes silent.

Frank salutes the general and replies, “Thank you sir. I’m looking forward to serving with you and the SGC.”

There is a knock at the door and it opens. “Ready to go, senior chief?” He turns and nods and follows Walter out of the office. Hammond smiles and makes a mental note to keep en eye on the new member’s missions.

That next afternoon, Captain Lynn Schultz walked into the Commissary. She’d have killed for pumpkin pie but it looked like all that was left was Jell-O. Lynn wrinkled her nose. Hard pass. She was avoiding her team this afternoon. The morning had gone… badly.

It wasn’t her fault. It really wasn’t. Her job was to make things work better than they already did. To do that she documented the changes she made so if it didn’t work, she could reverse the change order. This was especially important on anything military related because her ass would be in a sling if she did NOT submit documentation to Major Carter and sign off on the new MIL-SPECs.

She had left her notes on her bench next to the cam shaft she was fiddling with. She’d been carefully grinding off various edges to see if a lighter weight shaft would make the MALP motors more efficient. She still had to stress test each one though so she’d been setting up a stress program in her computer while keeping an eye on Sean who had been helping her set up a testing cage.

No one would admit who it was but she knew. Oh she KNEW Bev had been flirting with Mike and not at all paying attention to where she was sloshing her coffee cup around. How else had her pile of documentation been saturated with sticky brown coffee stains. How else were they stuck together in a way that meant they were never coming apart again.

To add insult to injury as she had been panicking over the condition of her notes her BOSS walks into the lab and asks her how things are going. Because that’s what she needed. Major Carter looking at her with… pity.

Lynn sighed and picked at fruit salad she’d grabbed. Maybe she needed to go to the gym and punch something.

At the same time, Frank was outside on the firing range. This will be his third run through, Frank thought. He has to say he’s impressed with SGC’s firing range. High quality kill houses, lots of medium to long range targets, it’s almost as if he’s in DEV group.

He checks his gear one more time, side arm, MP7 silenced and assorted knives. HE pulls up the MP7 and puts it in combat sight position and turns the corner and heads for the kill house. He scans his part of the pie (the designation of where a shooter is to shoot in a combat situation). His eyes dart left to right when he approaches the building when suddenly on his right, a target of a Jaffa pops up. He puts three rounds in its head.

No sooner than the bullets hit their target, another pops up and he swings to the left. Just as he’s about to pull the trigger he notices that it’s a female carrying a basket of fruit. He immediately looks at the door that is thirty feet away, slowly making progress to the building. No more targets pop up.

He gets to the door and goes to the right side of it, back pressed against the wall. Taking a deep breath he pulls a flash bang off his chest harness. He spins, kicks the door in, throws the flash bang in then enters the building. Scanning left to right, he approaches the main room, there are no visible targets and he proceeds to the first side room on his left. Noticing there’s no door, he goes for a dynamic entry. He goes in quickly and goes to the right side of the room. There are two Jaffa standing side by side. He puts a three round burst in the left one’s chest, pivots and gets the second one with a three round burst.

There’s no hostage so he leaves the room quickly and quietly. He heads down the hallway. There is only one more room in the building. He enters the room. There’s one Jaffa and he pulls his MP7 up and aims for the Jaffa’s head. The gun clicks. He’s out of ammo. Quickly, he drops the MP7 on its strap and goes for his handgun. Diving to the right, he fires his handgun multiple times hitting the target in the chest and the head. He stands and sees the hostage dummy behind the Jaffa. He grabs the dummy, puts it over his shoulder in a fireman carry and exits the building.

He walks back to his starting point with the dummy and sets it down then checks the timer. Five seconds quicker than last time. He’s good with that. He takes his weapon over to the table where his gear is set up and starts replacing the rounds for the magazine in the MP7 and the handgun. He enjoys keeping his close combat skills honed even though he’s a sniper. You never know in the teams when you will be called to do something outside of your purview. Everyone can do everyone’s job. He’s going to try to bring that kind of philosophy to his team. Everyone will cross train.

His next action for the day was to check his sniper skills to make sure they hadn’t become rusty. He has two sniper rifles sitting on the bench. The first is a TAC-338 fitted with a suppressor. It’s made for soft targets out at longer ranges. The suppressor kept him hidden so no one knew where the shot came from. It’s optimal range is sixteen hundred meters. His other was an M82 50 caliber sniper rifle. This gun was considered an anti materials sniper rifle. It can engage soft targets with devastating effect but it can also be used to take out targets behind walls, destroy an engine block on almost any kind of truck, knock out power generators, disable communication arrays and with special rounds puncture armored vehicles.

He picks up the TAC-338 first. He has three targets set up, one at twelve hundred meters, one at fourteen hundred and one at sixteen hundred. For the first target at twelve, he sets up across a bench in a sitting position. He pops the caps on the scope and starts looking down the sights. Usually he has a spotter but today he’s got tell tails letting him know wind direction by each target. He takes a deep breath and chambers the round.

As he looks down the scope he remembers his sniper training and the famous word BRASS stands for breath, relax, aim, slack, squeeze. He lets out his breath, slowly relaxing. He has the target in his sight and he takes up the slack on the trigger and pulls. There’s a soft cuff coming out of the gun, barely audible. He watches the scope as he sees the target hit dead center, then he hears the ping of metal as the sound of the round hitting the metal resonates back to him a moment later.

He stands up and goes to a wall that has a window opening cut into it. There is no glass, just an open hole. For this shot, he’s going to take a standing shot simulating shooting from cover. It’s a little harder shot but sometimes in urban situations, necessary. He goes through the same sequence he did during the first shot and fires the gun. Little off center to the right. He makes adjustments on his scope for the windage and moves around the wall and goes to a small berm fifteen feet away.

For this shot he’s going to lay prone on the ground as the longer shot requires a steadier position. He checks the tell tail to make sure he has the wind down and the scope sited, There is no need to rush the shot. Once he feels comfortable he does the brass again. The gun coughs. Watching through the scope. Dead center. Perfect shot. Not bad for an old guy he laughs to himself.

He takes the gun back to the table and picks up the Barrette. Walking back to the berm, he has three targets at nineteen hundred meters. Concrete block wall with dummy behind it, an old duce and a half troop transport truck, and a fifty five gallon drum simulating a power generator. This baby packs a little bit of a kick so he should be able to take out all three targets within five seconds of each other. So in the span of fifteen seconds, he should be able to get maximum damage before they anyone is aware of the first round hitting the target.

This thing is more of a hammer than a surgical device but at this distance you still had to calculate the curvature and spin of the earth. After making a few adjustments to the scope settings, he takes sight on the wall. He’s painted a small tennis ball sized black dot, simulating where the enemy would be crouched, thinking he’s safe.

He pulls the slack up on the trigger and prepares for the kick. This thing kicks like a mule. He sends the ordinance down range. He doesn’t wait to see if the round hits, he immediately changes targets to the truck. Sighting where the engine block would be, he pulls the trigger again. He quickly shifts to the final target, the fifty five gallon drum. This is a special round, the other two were armor piercing, the third one is incidentary. he pulls the trigger. As soon as the round is out of the gun, he spins to look back at the wall as it shatters due to the force of the fifty cal. As the wall experiences spontaneous deconstruction, the dummy, which has a bladder of red paint in it, energetically disassembles in a red mist. One down.

Scanning the truck, the only thing giving away the fact that the block is destroyed is steam rising under the hood. Thirty minutes prior to targeting the truck, he’d run it until it was hot so he’d be able to tell he hit his target but he only got a brief glimpse of it as the drum erupts in a huge fireball. A huge grin spreads across his face and he giggles a little. It always makes his heart flutter when things go kaboom kaboom. He gets up and dusts himself off, picks up the rifle and heads back to the bench. As he turns around, he notices someone standing behind him with a shocked look on her face. His time must be up on the range.

As he reaches the bench, he sets the gun down and smiles at the young lady and says, “Sorry about the mess.”

“Sorry about the mess.” The grey haired man told her with a smirk and a light drawl that had her eyes narrowing a bit. His age was ambiguous. Like Colonel O’Neill, his hair was graying but it looked like he might be younger than you would suspect at first in the same way.

Lynn shook her head, her curls bobbing about randomly. The only reason she’d come topside was General Hammond had ordered all military personnel to submit range scores. She was a little rusty and if she was honest with herself, there was a reason her TO had told her to stick to fixing aircraft. She wasn’t the first person you called for a firefight and she knew it. This guy, though, apparently was Rambo.

So here she was, up here to practice alone and work off some steam per a rather odd conversation she’d just had with Colonel O’Neill regarding the lab incident. Apparently Major Carter wasn’t mad at her at all, but she was miffed at the other techs for horsing around near a test area. Colonel O’Neill had pointed out that if Carter, as he called her, wasn’t being suspiciously polite to her then she wasn’t mad at her specifically. Doctor Jackson had then teased the older man that he ought to know as he’d been on the receiving end of said overly polite tone himself more times than he should admit to.

Her boss’ team seemed nice enough and Lynn envied her for getting to be part of not just a team that went through the gate, but _the_ team SGC sent out for scouting missions. Her envy was tempered by how many times Major Carter had come back severely injured in the field. Major Carter was a tough officer so if she was coming back injured it was obviously rougher out there than it needed to be.

“Er, hi. I’m just here to practice actually. Before I go in and get my range scores updated.” She told the man hoping he’d take his ordinance and go pillage a local village or something so she could shoot badly in peace.

Inwardly he smiles, he’s usually good at sizing people up. Let’s take three guesses: nerdy, science type that has no clue what the working end of a gun is, probably barely scraped though basic. He smiles. “Names Frank. Surprised I didn’t hear about this from Hammond but he’s probably got my qualification scores from just before I left the teams to come to SGC. So, what kind of weapon are you shooting?”

She shrugged. If Frank Rambo wants to be chatty who was she to argue. He wasn’t hard on the eyes. “About the only thing I’m qualified to fire fairly well. A Beretta. “

He nods. “Can I see the weapon please?” He holds out his hand.

She looks at him askance. It’s SGC issue so it’s going to be exactly like every other Beretta on the rack. “Sure.” She says in a ‘whatever, weird dude’ sort of way.

He smiles. He likes her. She’s got a sense of humor. Standard issue, nothing fancy, well maintained and loaded, one in the chamber, safety on. He hands the gun back to her. “Ok, if you don’t mind I’d be willing to give you a few pointers.”

One dark, arched eyebrow raises as she looks up at him, he only has a few inches on her 5’6” height. What’s his game, she wonders. She was just a lab geek. All she had to do was qualify with a weapon of her choice. It wasn’t like she was going to see action unless she had a foothold situation and she was trained as a first responder not back up for the airmen who guarded the facility.

“What do you want?” She finally asked bluntly.

He crosses his arms across his barrel chest. Typical academic, never thinking that they would ever be in any danger at any time. “Look, the real world is a lot different than your schoolbooks. What’s the point of having a weapon and not knowing how to use it properly. Now let’s get some aeronautics in it. Take for example you’re in an SH60 Blackhawk, flying around normal. There can never be any kind of mechanical error, until there is one. Do you just give up flying? Because you have no power? Or do you use the aircrafts momentum and auto rotate to a safe landing?”

“Well I’m not the pilot so I bail. This sounds like a ‘you’ problem. But let’s say academically I’m piloting. Yah I put her on the ground but the base, last time I checked, doesn’t launch and we have an iris and blast doors for a reason. Anything that can get through either is probably going to mow me down even if I am armed.” She says giving him a scathing look as he has such a low opinion of the people who make sure his coffee maker performs to specs.

In one fluid motion his arms come to his sides, right hand grasps his M1911 out of its drop holster, he pivots left and puts 3 rounds in a target fifty feet down range, center mass the head. Just as quickly, he holsters his side arm and glares at her. “Look, princess, my point was it’s better to know how to do something and not need it than to need it and not know how to use it. Your choice. Do you want help or not?” he growls at her, leaning in slightly, his eye narrowed.

She looks up and glares back. Rambo thinks he’s hot shit. Unfortunately, he’s also not technically wrong though she doubts if push came to shove he could tear down a turbine and repair it in the field either. Those green eyes of his were going to be a real problem. “Fine, hot shot. Let’s say you’re right. My TO barely dragged me through qualifying. What makes you think you’ll be able to make me any more proficient?”

“You think I got this good overnight?

“I think you watch John Wayne movies and jerk off to them.”

“Well, you’re obviously not a fighter. What’s your specialty? What are you good at?”

“The short list? Making stuff work better, particularly aircraft but I’ve been known to MacGyver my share of ground units too. I’m pretty good at fixing broken crap on the fly so we can get the hell out of Dodge when need be. I make sure everyone gets home.” She was good at some other stuff too but she doubted he needed a lengthy list of random skill sets like being able to eyeball grinding a piece of metal down to .04 microns for instance or run stress test calculations in her head.

Finally, something in common. Aeronautics. “Ok, so, aeronautics. You have a skill set. First time you ever tore down a turbine, rebuilt it and reinstall it, how long did it take?”

“Well that’s a trick question. You always do that job as a team and you work your way up on what task you take on as you gain proficiency.”

“Point taken. Still, how long did it take you to do your first one?”

“It took my team a little over six weeks for full tear down repair and rebuild.” She admitted which wasn’t a bad time for a bunch of recruits but was as bad as domestic turn around time on a rebuild.

“And after you did about two dozen, and I’m sure you’ve done field repairs, how fast was your turn around on a jet?”

She shrugged, “Assuming we had parts in house? Worst case seventy two, but, for a swap, less than six.”

“So Brainiac, what’s the answer to the question?”

She looks at him, her eyebrows knitted together. “Which question?”

“How did you get so good? Repetition. After you did the job multiple times, you got faster and better. Here’s a little side note. I bet you didn’t know about me. I originally joined the Army. I was exceptional in aeronautics, wanted to fly helos with the Night Stalkers, an elite group of pilots used to haul special forces in and out of hot zones. I was in the Philippines on a training mission, two weeks out from graduation, full combat simulation, we had a group of Seals on the helo along for the ride when we got a call on a hostage rescue, not a drill, real world. I flew these men into a hot LZ and was fascinated with how well they moved and worked together to save those hostages. When I flew back in to the LZ, I made up my mind that more than just flying these guys in, I wanted to be one of these guys. I put a transfer in to the Navy and immediately applied to BUDs.

“It was the hardest thing I ever did in m life but just like with flying, the more I trained, the better I got. Your problem isn’t that you can’t hit anything. Your problem is you haven’t had enough practice.” He pointed with his shoulder. “Come with me.” He said gruffly.

First he’s rude then he tells me his life story which I did not ask for. She thinks sourly but the guy did have a point, most of her lack of proficiency was lack of practice. Range time had cut into classes and she had to pick one or the other so she’d gotten just proficient enough to pass but little more. She could tear down and clean a firearm with the best of them and load without a second glance but she was only adequate at hitting the target because it was required of her to be so. She’d watched Major Carter practice and she was as proficient with a weapon as she was with a screwdriver.

So she followed the crazy squid with a shrug. What harm would it do to have someone try to make her a little less likely to fail qualifications. “All right. It’s your ulcer.”

He shakes his head. Boy, this is going to be tougher than hell week.


	2. Steaks are High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank schemes to get his way into SG-1 but it's probably going to backfire on him. Let the fun begin.

Not bad food for the Chair Force. Frank smiles inwardly at the pet name for his rival military brothers and sisters. Most people would tell you the Navy has the best chow in all the branches of the service. He cuts another piece of steak and dips it in his mashed potatoes and gravy. Chewing it lovingly, there is nothing like a good meal after an afternoon of PT.

He leans back in his chair surveying the mess hall. It’s a typical room with the usual suspects. From his vantage point in the farthest back corner from the entrance as possible. It’s an old habit he has had since basic. Always keep a wall at your back so you can focus on what’s ahead of you. The one point of interest is the four people sitting in the center of the room. SG-1, the elite team of this command. They appeared to be in a heated debate about something. Taking another bite he wonders what it would take to get assigned to them on a mission. To be blunt, they always seem to get into the shit. His kind of party.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a newcomer. That nerdy smart ass Lynn Schultz. Once he got her to take his weapons training serious she was a pretty good shooter. Taking a sip of what the Air force called coffee, he hopes she notices him. He’s never been a ladies man, being a little shy and always focused on his work. He’d been shocked when he dropped some nerdy pop culture phrases that she replied back with the right responses. Brains, not too hard on the eyes, and a nerd like him. Lynn waves at Major Carter and they chat for a second. Then he sees her look up and make eye contact with him. He tries not to spit his coffee all over himself and puts the cup down then buries his face in his chow.

What the actual fuck. He was acting like a teenager looking at his first Hustler mag. Get it together sailor. Then he gets that familiar tingle of being watched and looks up to see Lynn standing there with a smirk on her face. He smiles at her. “Hi, how’s it going?”

She shakes her head and replies, “Hungry much?”

He looks at his spread. Two steaks, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a huge piece of pecan pie. Just what a growing boy needs to survive and smiles sheepishly. “Have a seat.”

Lynn chuckles at him. She had just chatted briefly with her boss and the base commander Colonel O’Neill who had complimented her on her improved range scores this time around. Major Carter had complimented her as well which made Lynn uncomfortable so she’d looked around the room for some kind of escape from the attention. Thankfully Dr. Jackson who had insisted she just call him Daniel had resumed the heated conversation about the superiority of Next Generation over the original version of Star Trek.

Lynn made her escape while Major Carter and Colonel O’Neill glared daggers at each other but it was clearly a game.

Her eyes fell on her new range buddy. She smirked at him. His tray was piled with enough food for two people. Four if they were her size. He told her to have a seat and Lynn got the oddest impression that he thought she was attractive. Her heart did a little flutter in response.

Get a grip Schultz! She yelled at herself in her head. You are a goofy little dork who only ever talks to her boss and sometimes her cutely shy archeologist teammate when you need something translated. Guys who look like Hopkins go for women who look like Major Carter not mousey little geeks. ‘Come here often?’ Really Schultz? You idiot. She sat down and stared into her black coffee, glad that she wasn’t prone to blushing on top of sounding like an idiot.

He laughs at her comment. “Only when I’m hungry.” Taking another bite and swallowing, he smiles. “And I’m always hungry.” Putting his fork down he asks her “What’s it like working with SG-1? Got to be pretty exciting working with the Elite team on the base. I mean, when I was considered for a spot in DEV group, it was like hitting the teams version of the lottery. Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken that over this.” Taking a sip of his coffee he gets melancholy. “I know going off world and everything should be interesting and something most folks in my line of work would consider an honor but to be a part of the best of the best… well, I’m not sure I will ever get that here.” He shrugs and starts eating his pie.

She looked at him a little shocked. He thought she… “It’s really not like that. Major Carter is my boss but I don’t really talk to the rest of them. Colonel O’Neill is the base commander. I’m no one really. The only reason he remembers my name is because of _Hogan’s Heroes_.”

“Two reasons, Daniel! Kirk and Spock.” Both of them looked at Colonel O’Neill who was gesturing wildly. Dr. Jackson had a hand in his hair, frustrated, and Major Carter rolled her eyes.

“I found Lt. Uhura extremely attractive.” Teal’c agreed with Jack.

“Thank you Teal’c!” Jack sweeps his hands to the large Jaffa emphatically as Sam excused herself.

Sam headed for Lynn and Frank. “Who’s your friend Lynn?” she asked with a bright smile and a smothered chuckle at Jack and Teal’c trying to convince Daniel that original Star Trek was better than Next Generation. Sam only watched it because Jonathan Frakes was hot. Most of the science was bad.

“Oh! Hi Ma’am. This is Senior Chief Frank Hopkins.” She said. Sam was frankly the nicest CO she’d ever had. Dr. Lee was a good guy but Sam seemed to inspire fanatical loyalty. It wasn’t just her. Most of the base adored her.

Frank snapped out of his chair and stood at attention. “Ma’am. Like Captain Schultz said, Senior Chief Frank Hopkins, formerly Seal Team 2.”

Sam smiles. “Relax Senior Chief. No need to be so formal on my account.”

Frank smiles and blushes as he takes his seat again. Sam’s eyebrows wrinkle “Seals, huh? Not too many chances to use your skills off world is there? I mean for underwater excursions.”

“Well Ma’am, when I have my canteen the water is always with me. What I mean is yes, the water is our home be it is sea, air, land, we do it all. To be honest, if it wasn’t for the CNO convincing me that this was the deployment of a lifetime I’d be in a green team now securing my spot in a DEV group.

Sam’s eyes widened a bit. Most in the covert world heard the whispers about DEV group. The group of men that did the jobs that were considered impossible. Ghosts in the night. The men who dealt out retribution to those who brought terror around the world. With a background like that, she could see why Hammond wanted someone with his background and Jack tapped him in particular. “Wow, that must have been hard to pass up.” She told him.

Frank nodded. “It was what I trained for and pushed myself most of my career. But the admiral told me that what you folks did was out of this world…” He chuckled. “To be honest I was surprised that he was being literal.” He ate some more of his pie.

Sam smiled at his last comment. “My dad wanted me to be an astronaut.” She grinned as though laughing at a personal joke. “Lynn, is this who helped you with your range scores?”

“Yes Ma’am. Senior Chief Hopkins is a good coach.” Lynn agreed.

Frank held up a hand. “Captain, it’s just Frank or Hopkins.” He smiled at her embarrassed expression.

“That might be useful.” Sam said thoughtfully, ignoring their discussion about ranks.

“Ma’am?” Lynn asked her, curious.

“Oh nothing. Ja… er, Colonel O’Neill gets tired of handling all the qualification training on top of everything else he has to do. Tell me Mr. Hopkins, do you like paperwork?” Sam asked him.

Across the room, Daniel nudged Jack. “Who’s the sequoia?”

Jack gave Daniel a bland look and a shrug. “Hammond gave me a short list of ops guys. He was one of the ones that decided to give it a shot.” Jack told his younger friend.

“He seems a most formidable warrior. Looks can be deceiving. I shall test his worthiness to be here for you O’Neill.” Teal’c told Jack.

Jack got a thoughtful look on his face. “I’ll tell Walter to set up the pool.” He said absently.

Frank pauses mid bite “Well, about as much as a kick in the nu… teeth Ma’am.” Nice save there Seal, he thinks. “It’s a necessary evil. What do you have in mind?”

Sam smiles. “It’s just that Colonel O’Neill was looking for someone qualified to help with the training schedule.” She glances at Lynn who is silently drinking her coffee. “Your first student made significant gains so I’d say you are the man for the job.”

Frank smiles. More time shooting and a chance to impress the head of SG-1… just what he needed. “Sure, I’d be honored… just one thing.”

Sam shakes her head in amusement. “Sure, what?”

“Think I could meet the rest of SG-1?”

Sam smiles. “Of course. Come on.”

Standing he looks at Lynn. “Wait for me?” and flashes his best grin at her.

Lynn gives him the hairy eyeball. Does he think this routine works on women? His green eyes sparkled at her with mischief. She caught herself starting to smile back and frowned. Dammit, it kind of was. She looked pointedly at her watch. “I’ve got a few.” She admitted. Her pointed look told him to try not to drool or sit up and bark.

Damn she’s a hell of a woman, Frank thought. Winking at her, he follows Major Carter.

O’Neill sees Carter approaching with the new guy and gives Daniel and Teal’c the ‘play natural’ look.

Sam looks at her teammates and wonders what evil plot they have been concocting. “Sir, this is Senior Chief Frank Hopkins. He’s the one that helped Captain Schultz improve her scores on the range.”

Jack raises his eyebrow. “Yes… Hopkins, Navy Seals… great guys. Nice work with Schultz. Bet that was… interesting.”

Frank nods. “Yes sir, it was, but not as hard as you think. Like most folks less interested in firearms, you have to find the key reason for them to want to learn. My favorite motivation is finding what they are good at and how they became good at what they do. Then I tell them weapon proficiency is the same principle… repetition makes practice perfect.”

Jack nods. “See, that’s what I say all the time… but getting people to believe it, that’s a different story. Tell me your secret?”

Frank smiles. “Well… I tell them that in a worst case scenario, it’s better to know how to use your weapon and save your life and others around you or die where you stand. Self preservation is usually a great motivator.”

Jack likes this guy. Glancing at Daniel, he knows it was tough convincing him that force is a necessary evil. “Great strategy… Carter?”

Sam nods. “Chief Hopkins has offered his skills to assist with the training schedule.”

Jack stands. “Yes… hell yes.” He pats the man on the shoulder.

At that moment Teal’c stands. “I wonder if we might exchange services Senior Chief Hopkins?”

Frank looks at the Jaffa. Damn he’s thick. Bet he’d make a helluva Seal. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

“You will teach me your Tauri weapons skills and I will teach you Jaffa hand to hand combat.”

Frank stares at the man and tries not to swallow hard. “I’d love to learn some new hand to hand skills.”

Teal’c smirks and bows his head.

“Great.” Jack says a little too excitedly then catches himself. “I mean, teamwork… exchange of ideas… sweet. I have to go see Walter.” He says absently and turns and leaves.

Frank wrinkles his forehead. Something is up. Looking over at Lynn he sees her fidgeting. “Excuse me… I ‘ll catch up with you later.” He turns and heads back to the table. “Sorry Lynn… I think I may have gotten myself in over my head.” As he takes his seat.

Lynn looks at him thoughtfully. She’d overheard their conversation as SG-1’s table was only a few feet away and she’d been trying to listen in. The basically good part of her really wanted to tell him he’d been had. Teal’c didn’t need training in Earth weapons. A far less noble part of her, however, was still miffed that he’d manipulated her last week. Sure it had motivated her but that wasn’t the point. She’d been there to practice anyway. She supposed what she really ought to work at was her pistol skills as the most likely situation she would be in involved someone getting the drop on her while she was repairing something.

Plastering an innocent look that fooled her perennially suspicious three older brothers for years. She smiled mildly at him. “I’m sure they were just being friendly. Colonel O’Neill is always very nice to everyone.”


	3. The Only Easy Day was Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank learns not to tempt bored Colonels or Jaffa

This is the third run through the kill house with Teal’c and one thing is for sure. He’s been set up. The Jaffa is totally comfortable with Earth weapons which means it was a test. They wanted to see just how good of a trainer he was. Well, let’s see what happens when his little surprise rears its ugly head. One of the things Seals train for is Mr. Murphy showing up. You can plan for every possible scenario and yet something can and will go wrong. Probably at the worst possible time. To simulate this, they have a member of their team load the magazines of their weapons short. Simulating a weapon jamming. The idea is to not hesitate and to keep an aggressive posture.

They reach the door of the kill house and Frank holds up three fingers. Teal’c nods and he silently counts down, 3, 2, 1 and they breach the door. Frank goes left, Teal’c goes right. They both have two targets and eliminate them with ease. Moving to the hallway, they each clear a room wit no targets. They head into the next room and three targets pop up. Teal’c fires his P90 at one and attempts to shoot the next one but there is a silent click. A bean bag hits the big man in the chest.

Frank meanwhile hits his target but as he swings to the last target his gun runs dry. Without a second thought he drops to one knee while drawing his side-arm and drills the final target. “Well, that was fun.” Frank smiles and replaces his side arm. “Come on Teal’c, let’s go get ready for your hand to hand training.”

Teal’c raises an eyebrow and looks back at the targets. “Indeed.” The big man says and follows Frank out. “Chief Hopkins, you have shown me many interesting things today. For instance, the unusual quietness of your weapons.”

Frank nods. “They are called suppressors. In the Teams, getting in and out as quiet as possible is the goal. The suppressors give us that advantage. The downside is you lose a little impact and range but if you are going in and can get closer because you are quiet, it’s an equal trade off.

Teal’c nods. “A sound strategy to not alert your enemy of your presence. This would present an advantage over your prey.”

Frank smiles. “That it does.” Looking up he notices the crowd and before he can figure out what’s going on, Teal’c speaks again.

“I am confused with that last run. I am positive the weapons were not properly loaded. As it was Captain Schultz who loaded them, I find this highly unlikely, she is known for her competency and accuracy in her work.”

Frank nods. “You are correct. To simulate a gun jamming in battle, we have someone load the mags short. I asked Captain Schultz to load them for us to be fair.”

Teal’c pauses. “How then did you know to use your other weapon so quickly?”

“Practice.” Frank smiles. “By doing this you train yourself not to hesitate and to use the next resource at your disposal.” Reaching up to his chest, he grabs one of his throwing knives and hurls it at a target of a Jaffa. The knife slams home into the left eye of the target. “No hesitation means your chances of winning the fight are pretty good.”

Teal’c retrieves the knife and hands it to him. “You are a cunning warrior Hopkins. We shall see if I can expand your lethal skills without weapons.” He turns and leaves.

Janet and Siler had taken up position on either side of Lynn having figured out if they wanted the scoop on the hulking squid she was the most likely target as she seemed to be the only person he’d spoken more than five words in a row to.

“Holy crap Rambo.” Janet said, equally shocked and impressed. Lynn pressed her lips together but a giggle escaped anyway.

“Rambo? He’s more like the Terminator.” Siler told them.

“It’s not a Jaffa.” Janet said in a cheesy Austrian accent.

“Come with me if you want a squid.” Siler quipped in the same accent.

Lynn lost it. She laughed at the hilarity and didn’t care that everyone was looking at her. She wiped a tear of mirth from her cheek. “You guys are terrible.” She told them.

Janet grinned. “You think this is bad, you should see how we pick on Colonel O’Neill.

Lynn looked at them both incredulously and Siler nodded. Jack was a good commander. You could go to him with most of your problems. His advice was sometimes unconventional but often helpful.

“Looks like the party is moving inside.” Janet told them and nudged Lynn forward.

Frank replaces his knife and sees Teal’c talking to Colonel O’Neill. Teal’c turns back and looks at Frank then returns his attention to O’Neill. The colonel pats his shoulder and Teal’c leaves. O’Neill then waves Frank forward.

Frank approaches the other man. “Yes sir?”

“Teal’c was impressed. That’s saying a lot. The training gig is yours. You definitely are the man for the job. Congratulations kid.” And pats Frank’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I won’t let you down… seems like I have plenty of time seeing as I haven’t been assigned to a team yet.”

Jack raises a finger. “Yes, about that, you have a team now. SG-13. They are a première covert ops team under Colonel Dixon. You should fit right in. They scout our high value targets and assess what we need to execute the mission or if it’s even worth going in.”

Frank smiles. Finally. Sure, it’s not SG-1 but it is his playhouse. “Sir, thanks, I can’t wait to meet the rest of the team and get to work.”

Jack bobs his head in a nod. “No problem… and just so you know, from time to time, I may call on your services to help SG-1 in certain situations. But for now, I understand Teal’c is preparing for your sparring match.”

Frank snaps a salute. “See you inside sir.” And heads for the locker room.

Jack wishes he had a dozen more of the guy. He looks at Sam and Daniel. “What?” Daniel folds his arms and looks at the ground.

Sam gives him a look. “Really sir, you think it’s fair to have the Chief spar with Teal’c? You know he’s going to put him in the infirmary.”

Jack nods. “I hope so. I’ve got fifty bucks on the big guy… and junior.”

“Sir!!” Sam admonishes him.

“Come on Carter. We may all be surprised. He is pretty tough.” And Jack turns with an amused smile and walks into the gym.

Sam looks at Daniel who shakes his head.

Frank stores his BDUs in his wash sack in his locker and puts on some gym short and grabs his wife beater then heads to the washroom next to the showers. He fills a sink and washes the sweat and dirt off his face. Looking in the mirror he studies the man looking back at him. Medium brown hair starting to turn grey and looking older than his thirty two years. Crows feet have sunk in around his pale grey green eyes from squinting into a scope and decades of sun. Still physically fit and well proportioned for his 5 foot 10 inch frame. Not as rangy as O’Neill nor as beefy as Teal’c.

He dries his face off and looks at the assorted scars on his chest from all the abuse from training and missions alike. He puts on his shirt and heads for the gym.

He’s heard about the exceptional strength of the Jaffa thanks to their symbiote. He’s going to have to be smart if he wants to stand a chance. Entering the gym he notices it’s busier than usual. Shaking his head he realizes this is more than training. It’s an initiation.

Colonel O’Neill walks over with protective head gear and gloves. “Hopkins, duck and weave and for Pete’s sake, don’t let him lull you into a sense of complacency.”

Frank nods and dons the proffered gear. Teal’c bows. “Are you prepared for battle, Chief Hopkins?”

Putting his gloved fists together a couple times, he nods, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Lynn shook her head. He’d held his own for a while. Even gotten a few licks in, splitting Teal’c’s lip at one point but she had taken the large man’s self defense classes herself and knew Frank was going to eat mat. Sure enough, he lost his focus and Teal’c laid him out like a pork roast.

He’s confused. When did he arrive at the beach… looking around he tries to figure out where he is… Hawaii? Gotta be. From behind him he hears a familiar voice. “Come here often sailor?” Turning around he realizes it’s that cute nerdy Captain Schultz in the most revealing two piece green bikini.

He mutters a reply. “Lynn?... you look… beautiful.”

She smiles then suddenly she smacks his face. “Come on. Snap out of it.”

He shakes his head and realizes he is on the floor of the gym. Dr. Fraser shines a flashlight in his eyes.

Lynn and Janet kneeled on either side of him and went through a vitals check together.

“Should he be smiling like that?”

Janet shrugged. Frank blinked awake at that point.

“He’ll be fine. Let’s get him to the infirmary and keep him on bed rest for the next 24 hours. Come on hero.” Janet tells him as Lynn grabs his arm while an orderly grabs the other. Together they haul him up from the mat.

Jack looks at Teal’c. “You did good but I thought he may have had you there for a minute.”

Teal’c wipes a drop of blood from his lower lip.

“He is truly an accomplished warrior O’Neill. I would be honored to join him in battle.”

O’Neill nods. “He is a tough one… let’s go get some pie.” He says hopefully and O’Neill and Teal’c leave the gym.

Frank is lying in the bed, nursing a massive headache. “How yah feeling?” Looking over he sees it’s Lynn and immediately blushes remembering his fantasy about her in an extremely revealing sparkling green bikini.

“I’ll survive but I’m not going to lie, I feel like a notorious Seal that coined the phrase ‘pain lets you know you’re alive, and right now I feel very alive’.”

She looks at him like he’s out of his mind.

Laying back he mumbles ‘the only easy day was yesterday’ and as he falls asleep, he hears in his mind’s voice ‘and you know how much of a bitch yesterday was’.

Lynn wondered why she was still sitting here while he slept off his foolish decision to tempt Colonel O’Neill with a good time. Walter had been settling up the betting squares when she and Janet had carted Frank off.

She felt no pity for him over this but here she was staring at him thoughtfully. The bruises would heal but his ego might take a much needed hit. There was always a bigger fish.

He’d held his own longer than she expected and she’d lost a solid twenty on the deal.

“You owe me twenty bucks, you nutty squid. I’m taking it out of your ass.” She told the sleeping man whose short brown hair was threaded with silver. It suited him. Lynn frowned at that train of thought. ‘Remind yourself he’s an E-9 Schultz. You’re an O-3. 2.3.3 through 2.3.5 come to mind.’ she thought pointedly of the regulations.

The trouble was, she really liked the guy. He was kind of nutty but they had a lot of similar interests. She could see them killing a 40 on her postage stamp sized deck easily. Lynn sighed again. It just figured she finally made an actual friend and the rules said she had to keep it ‘professional’ whatever that meant. She got up and was about to leave when Colonel O’Neill showed up.

“At ease.” He told her absently as he waved her down when she started to salute. His smile was amused when she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hand now. “How’s the patient?” he asked her, his rare smile kind.

“Janet knocked him back out.” Lynn admitted.

“Probably a good idea. Teal’c’s punch packs a wallop.”

“I know sir. He trained me in hand to hand too.”

O’Neill’s head bobbed agreeably. “You didn’t warn him.”

“Where’s the fun in that sir?” she asked with a small amused smile.

“Ah, good point Schultz. Hey, Carter said it’s fine if you want to babysit the patient, it’s pretty much tradition here at this point but when he wakes up, she needs you to get going on the doohickey on your bench.”

“Yes sir, I will.”

“Good. I gave your lab partners a suggestion they avoid your work area. Let me know if there’s any further issue so I can address it.” He gave her a look. “Don’t cover for them Schultz. Their screw up cost the Air Force time and money. They do it again, those two will be running a car wash to make up the difference.”

Lynn couldn’t tell if he was joking so she killed her amused smile. “Yes sir.”

O’Neill rolled his eyes for some reason and left.


End file.
